


The Plights of a Reluctant Househusband

by C-chan (1001paperboxes)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, IKEA, IKEA Furniture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 12:50:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10514118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1001paperboxes/pseuds/C-chan
Summary: In which Grantaire attempts to assemble IKEA furniture.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [estelraca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/estelraca/gifts).



> Happy April Fool's Day! I hope you enjoy!

It wasn't that Grantaire didn't like his old apartment. Sure, it was in the basement, but that just meant it was cooler during the summer and the lack of natural light made it easier to sleep until early afternoon. And sure, it was small, but there was room for his bed, his art supplies, and a few dozen gaming systems. What more could he need? 

Besides, milk crates made for very versatile furniture. Throw a pillow on one and you have a chair. Throw another upside-down for a low table. Stack a few sideways and voila! Instant shelves. It was cheap, colourful, and able to put up with his various moods.

But Enjolras had invited him to move in. Enjolras had bought a house. Enjolras wanted _real_ furniture.

And Grantaire just could not say no to that man.

* * *

Going to IKEA was always an experience.

The showroom was a two story maze full of doodads and furniture, the food delicious but extremely cheap, the ball pit far too tempting to break into, even though he was well over the age and height limits. Really, it'd be the perfect place for an extra high sleepover birthday party. (Jehan had actually arranged an expedition after taking pot once before, and said it was a not-to-be-missed experience.)

Enjolras, spoilsport as he was, insisted on going there sober. He invited the whole gang along, though, so at least there was fun to be had in trying to pronounce weird Swedish names, retrieving a lost Bossuet, laughing at the MARIUS stool, getting Bossuet's hand unstuck from a weird vase-type thing, ordering the entire menu and sharing it buffet-style, testing the acoustics of the area where they keep all the boxes, and calling over the store's PA system for Bossuet to meet them at the check-out. They even picked up two large bags full of meatballs, salted liquorice, and various blueberry-flavoured goods to enjoy at home after arranging for delivery of a few full rooms' worth of furniture.

All in all, a pretty fun day.

* * *

Enjolras, perfect man that he was, had managed to land a paid internship right out of school, which had transitioned into a full-time job at a politically-minded non-profit. The pay was good, the hours decent if sometimes long, and the work allowed for Enjolras to put his passions to good and productive use. He was always researching new causes, always planning his next rally. He could see how some people would find it inspiring.

The life of a freelance artist meant designing for commissions when there was work to be had, drawing fan art for conventions when there wasn't, and taking long breaks to play through his video game collection and marathon full series on Netflix whenever artist block struck. He was home often enough that he'd started making househusband jokes, and had on more than one occasion made dinner for Enjolras in nothing but an apron and his dance belt, much to the other man's dismay.

This, of course, meant that he was the one at home during the delivery block (which was five minutes late; if it were pizza he'd've gotten a full wardrobe set free). It also meant he was the one surrounded by fifty billion boxes full of furniture waiting to be assembled.

Welp. 3D sculpture had been a fun medium to explore back in undergrad. Now just if he could figure it out how to make it apply to a more practical use.

* * *

The first item he tried to assemble was a bookshelf. It was a deceptively simple thing: an open box on stand with four slats to divide it into five evenly spaced sections. High enough that oversized books could easily fit, deep enough for double shelving if they needed to. Easy enough to be put together in five minutes.

Two hours later, he'd walked away from the project several times to eat the last of the previous night's köttbullar and grönsaksbullar, put the pajmix rabarber & hallon in the oven for later, and play a few very competitive rounds of Arm Joe.

This time, he actually opened the box. Solid progress by anyone's measure.

The contents were overwhelmingly white, pieces of wood lined neatly in the box with instructions and a few bags of small fiddly bits lying on top.

It was only after taking everything out and laying them aesthetically on the hardwood floor did he realize he'd probably need a hammer.

* * *

The want of an item tended to be the thing most likely to drive it away from existence. Nearly half an hour was spent searching for a hammer before finally uncovering the mallet he'd used when chiseling sculptures.

Once that was found, he opened the instructions to take a look.

They were cute, really. Warnings in a bunch of languages, then a series of pictographs showing, rather than telling, how to do everything. It even showed that climbing on the bookshelf could lead to certain toppling and less certain death, despair, and destruction.

It _also_ showed that he'd probably need a screwdriver.

Well, _fuck._

* * *

He'd almost left to pick up a screwdriver when he realized he had no clue what size or kind was actually needed.

The instructions weren't very much help there, showing just a happy dude with a screwdriver over an X. Googling suggested Phillips and flat head were the most common in IKEA use, but not really much in sizing.

And so, he headed out, hoping to maybe get a cheap combination tool and hope for the best.

* * *

As luck would have it, Grantaire managed to find a relatively cheap set with enough potential heads to get him through whatever IKEA threw his way. He also managed a proper IKEA-style hammer tool, after a salesperson had insisted on helping him find what he was looking for. (If they were that helpful to _his_ sarcastic ass, he realized, there was no way they weren't working on commission. He went for the _second_ cheapest model in solidarity.) He also bought a pack of pencils and a ruler just in case; no use messing up his good art supplies or having to scrounge around when he could just spend two bucks, after all.

Now properly supplied, he headed home to get back to work.

* * *

IKEA strongly recommended working with a buddy, or at least the Friendly Put Together Dude seemed happier when working with his friend, Sir Only Appearing In This Frame.

Grantaire, as per usual, was home alone. Even moreso than usual, actually: Enjolras was spending the night with Courfeyrac and Combeferre for their weekly debriefing, planning, and Scrabble night. The beautiful, marble-cut bastard was probably going to go to a moderately priced restaurant with sustainable food options and feast on fresh goat cheese and microgreens. He, meanwhile, would probably feast on delivery pizza and slightly burnt pajmix.

Maybe, though, he could at least find someone to eat it with him.

* * *

The pictographs showed the Friendly Put Together Dude crying at his shelf's cracked corner on a hard surface, and smiling and patting the same shelf on a rug. So, either they suggested using padding under the construction space, or IKEA was trying to explain that their furniture could do tricks, but that there was only a fifty-percent chance of it succeeding on the first try instead of dying in the attempt.

Grantaire chose to believe the former (against his better judgement) and moved the still-in-progress bookshelf to the nearest carpeted room. Of course, that made it easier to loose the small bits once a bag was opened, and he was still trying to find a few lost pieces of dowelling when Jehan showed up half an hour later.

* * *

Jehan arrived dressed in aviator goggles, a t-shirt that looked like a commercial printing of a four-year-old's drawing, and a pair of tie-dyed coveralls with the top half tied around his waist. So typical Jehan wardrobe, really.

He also brought whipped cream, which made the pajmix taste so much better. The thing that really made it, though, was a couple glasses of Fat Bastard Syrah. (How could he resist a wine with a name like that?)

* * *

It was Jehan's idea to open up all the boxes at once, and put all of the matching parts together. That way, he explained, there would be ample amounts of all the pieces, and if a couple got lost in the carpet, they wouldn't have to stop every time to hunt.

It was Grantaire's idea to move the construction site once again, this time to the spare bedroom. That way, they could unpack everything, get all the furniture set up, and give it a cool place to hang out until they knew where to put it. Jehan declared it an inspired choice, and promptly stepped on one of the missing screws, letting up a yelp before picking it up and placing it in the newly christened screw bowl.

* * *

The next while was a blur of moving, unboxing item after item, making wood pile after wood pile, and creating a row of containers for every type of nut, bolt, screw, and fiddly bit that could possibly come out of an IKEA bag.

It was a glorious mess. 

It was the best thing ever.

It was… okay, maybe it was a little anxiety-inducing, seeing just how much work was left to go, but hey. Progress, right?

* * *

Jehan had been staring owlishly at an array of instruction manuals for quite some time before he solemnly turned to Grantaire.

"I think," he said, "we need some expert help."

* * *

Bahorel looked every bit the rugged carpenter or lumberjack upon his arrival in plaid shirt, jeans, and doc martins. The moustache he was sporting added just a hint of refinement, which he and Jehan quickly voted _swoon-worthy_. Thus, the two swooned over him in an appropriate manner and offered him his prize of meat-loaded pizza (which had arrived five minutes _early,_ damn it all) before showing him to their construction room.

Bahorel made one slow loop of the room, placed a large toolbox down in the center, and promised to immediately following the enjoyment of a beer and a round of Cards Against Humanity.

* * *

"The problem is, you've been trying to do this all by the book," Bahorel explained. "I mean, the book is great and all, sure, but the book is also boring and misses a lot of potential. What you need are some cool IKEA hacks."

* * *

So maybe the bedroom set didn't look quite as formal anymore, but a raised bed with full storage underneath was super cool and super duper convenient. And maybe the wardrobe didn't _need_ interior lighting, but it'd make sorting out navy blues and blacks a lot easier.

The bookshelf he was originally working on remained miraculously intact, though it's brother, a similar bookshelf in blue, now sported a charging station on the middle shelf.

All in all, it was a job well done.

He just hoped Enjolras would think the same.

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who is curious, [here are some IKEA instructions](http://www.ikea.com/ca/en/assembly_instructions/gersby-bookcase__AA-987869-6_pub.pdf).


End file.
